


Prologue

by lichtenstrange



Series: music box!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Soldier!Dean, ballerina!cas, music box, soldier!sam, they're small wooden toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lichtenstrange/pseuds/lichtenstrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a music box angel and a toy soldier:</p><p>How they came to be and how they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this part you can skip if you like, this is just an opening to the verse talking about their origins.  
> Basically this verse is just me getting this au out of my system.  
> BTW if you can guess who the old man is meant to be then holy wow you deserve a medal!

There was once a gifted craftsman. Hand him a piece of wood and he would hand back an elegant swan, a baby’s cradle, or even a gentleman with top hat, smoking pipe and painted black waistcoat. Many people who knew from passed on whispers would travel to his shop to witness and buy one of his beautiful wooden trinkets, decorations, and toys.  
Children would often look into the shop window to admire the display in awe. Some would venture into the store for a closer look, taking in the scent of incense and crafted wood of varying types.  
“How do you make such pretty things?” the eager children asked with wonder in their eyes. The man would chuckle lightly and stoop down, hands on his knees and a warm smile on his face, and he would ask them.  
“Do you believe in faeries?”  
Of course, the parents would laugh and brush it off in their minds as playful nonsense to appease the young ones, going about their daily business. But as they did, unbeknownst to them the man sat in his workshop and crafted as his much, much smaller and winged companions added a mark of their own on each wooden piece. Now, it was all with good intentions; the delightful aroma each wood type gave of never faded, as did the paint (not a crumble of pigment was ever recorded in his store), and certain ones were gifted with a sense of calm and positivity that radiated to others around them. All the hard work was still done by the man, of course, and the faeries never asked for anything in return knowing he was of good heart. Unfortunately, that heart wouldn’t last as long as theirs.  
The man, who was now old, made three final pieces which, to this day, remained the most special ones to ever exist.  
The first was a music box, containing his most loved and favoured music piece; the Pas de Deux from Tchaikovsky’s ‘Nutcracker’. Now, while a young fair maiden was the traditional ballerina of choice in these matters, the old man decided to craft an angel: an angel in the form of a boy, not too young a child but not too grown and adult. He poured a lot of love into his angel; eyes painted a royal blue, a coat of same shade and white that only the highest of princes would wear, and a pair of beautiful and intricate wings spread from his back. Round and round he would dance, his grace (as the faeries called it) radiating through the workshop with the wistful notes of the music he danced to.  
The second piece was a soldier. But he was made with a more hardened love (for at the time, the old man had a dark cloud over him). No, the green painted eyes of this soldier had more fight that love, but it was indeed buried in there somewhere; buried with a deep, intense need to care for his closest companions. His uniform was not as elegant or striking as the angels, a dull bluish-grey with gold trim, but it made him look the man he was; a fighter.  
The third and final piece was another soldier, a brother to the first soldier the old man made. This one held a more freed love than his older brother, the old man being in a better place than he had been previously. The second soldier was dressed the same as the other, a little taller by pure accident but a grand piece nonetheless. He would take care of his brother, like the older would care for the younger.  
It was as the old man was placing the brother soldiers on a shelf in his shop that he dropped the older soldier he had named Dean on the hard ground, where he broke apart and cracked. He would have fixed it, if he had not fallen and broken himself. The old man was taken later that day, never to return to his beloved workshop again. The shop remained shut for days, time the faeries took to mend the broken soldier. The only problem was the lack of resources. It was the old man who constructed the figures, not the faeries. But a pull from the music box sitting on his desk told them to “let me help.” The magic they gave the angel was a very unique kind, and they were glad. Animating the delicate figure, the angel offered his wings and his own magic they gave him to fix the broken soldier, but they only required a small amount. In the end, the angel had much smaller wings (which remained beautiful still) and with one final stitch, the second last creation of the old man was whole again. The faeries’ work there was done. As a parting gift and thanks to the angel, the three pieces were blessed with the ability no other craft held. With a note left behind asking the trio never be separated, the faeries went.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the musical piece (that I am in love with and wish was in music box version)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWwb4yvPQ5s


End file.
